Dark Reflections
by CyberForte
Summary: Upon occasion, a person finds their own reflection in another. And yet, the most accurate reflections are perhaps the most frightening to look upon-and who better to reflect the proud lord of the Shado-Pan than a knight of deepest darkness?


"Taran, we must have words." The slightly-accented, hauntingly-echoed voice was firm-it could not quite be said to be threatening, but nor was it at all apologetic or questioning. No, despite who it was addressed to and the fact that a myriad of wounds yet marred the pandaren's body where he laid in his bed, there was no hesitance in the statement of such a thing as a fact.

That brought a frown to Taran Zhu's face. The lord of the Shado-Pan sought to lift himself enough to look upon the other, but the attempt brought a grimace of pain to his face, and he let out an annoyed breath at his body's weakness. "...can it not wait until another time, Ilcya? I am hardly in any condition to talk."

"No, it cannot. And what better time is there for us to speak than this? Your wounds will heal quickly, under Yalia's care, and then there will be little time indeed for words in the days and weeks to come. After today, only time remains until there is no longer a Thunder King," came her answer, without any pause to consider the words.

"You certainly lack nothing for confidence," the pandaren answered, wryly, looking up at the draenei despite that he cared not at all for feeling so helpless. He had come to trust the other to some degree, and yet still something about her presence could be entirely unnerving. She could too easily blend into the shadows.

"Ought I lack for it? I do not think so. Even were it the Alliance alone who stood at your side, his demise would be inevitable now. As it stands, the only question that remains is who will bring about his end-no matter how mighty this mogu king, he is as nothing when set against those who have failed to stand before us. No, he is a mortal, Taran; he will succumb to the chill of the grave just as any other mortal." Truly, she could be unnerving, when she spoke of death with something that could almost be said to resemble glee-almost, for it was far too full of bitter darkness to truly be called that.

The lord of the Shado-Pan let out a long breath and shook his head; "Still I marvel at how little power the sha have over you, death knight. Very well, then. What is it that you would speak of?" Pride demanded that he not allow much pain to slip into his voice.

"Surely you can guess," she answered, her voice more neutral now as her glowing eyes narrowed. They were a particularly unnatural shade of blue, he noticed, which stood out against the more faded, arctic blue that accentuated her black armor. One of the draenei's almost-clawed hands lifted to brush her short, bone-white hair back from her face. "I appreciate the need for what you did before-it would do no good to battle each other when we stand together in the face of a greater enemy. And yet..."

"...and yet?" The pandaren's voice was suddenly wary as he looked up at her, recalling all too vividly the confrontation between the Kirin Tor and Sunreavers that he had so barely headed off.

"And yet I find myself rather unfortunately certain that you actually believe the words you spoke," she answered, matching his wariness with a hint of coldness as she moved to take a seat, easily pulling the wicked-looking axe she wore from its place upon her back and allowing it to rest upon the ground so she could sit more easily.

The sight of the weapon only brought more unease from the pandaren, for he was all too aware that the power of the sha yet tainted it. Worse than that, he had felt the darkness within the weapon grow, in the time he had known of it. When first she had brought it back, its taint had been nothing more than a faint, nagging unease as he had watched her emblazon it with runes of darkness with a meticulous, terrible sort of artistry. Now, the very sight of it made his skin crawl, and he forced himself to look away. "...of course I believe it," he answered, more anger slipping into his voice than he had intended.

Ilcya seemed unfazed by that anger. Taran was uncomfortably aware of the way her glowing eyes remained entirely upon him, even as he refused to look back at her. "You are a fool, for that," she answered simply, after a moment. "But since I know you have little care for our war or its reasons, let us consider... a somewhat different perspective."

Instinctively, the words made him want to refuse to hear whatever she would say. But, the lord of the Shado-Pan acknowledged with displeasure, he could not particularly enforce that decision, when he was in his bed as such, and he had to admire her daring in confronting him here. Not that it made it any less infuriating. "...speak, then. Nothing you can say will change my opinion of your wars, draenei," he answered bitterly, "It is you who are a fool to think otherwise, so I will hear you."

"Very well, then," answered the death knight, her tone icy for a moment. But then, it was softening back to near-neutrality. "Let us imagine, for a moment, that never had the Alliance nor the Horde arrived upon Pandaria."

"That would have been much for the better," Taran injected, darkly.

"Perhaps it would've. But the Zandalari would still have come, of course. It was an accident that brought us through the mists, but the trolls came with much more purpose. And when they have managed to resurrect Lei Shen with Allince, Horde, and Shado-Pan all set against them, let us not be so naïve as to imagine that you alone would've been more effective. No, they would've succeeded, and you would've been left to face the mogu alone."

"You imagine that we could not defeat them?!" he demanded, again trying without much success to lift himself from his bed.

"Imagine it?" she countered, a hint of a sneer in her voice, "No, I know it when some certainty, Taran. Together we faced Shan Bu this day-the least of Lei Shen's generals, and yet he gave you such grievous wounds as this. Do not pretend the Shado-Pan alone could defeat this new empire of the mogu, at least not with any swiftness."

Her words were chill again, and biting, but the pandaren found that... he could not refute them as easily as he would've liked. Not when he could barely move any part of his body. "So what?" he growled, "We would still defeat them in time."

"Perhaps that is true," she admitted, shrugging as she leaned nearer, then lowered her voice. "But let us imagine for a moment that it so happened that, amidst a battle off the Isle of Thunder, both your ships and those of the mogu were caught in such a storm as that not even this so-called king of thunder could tame it, and that it swept all of your fleets far off course, through the mists and away from Pandaria."

"This is absurd," he replied, through gritted teeth, "Such a thing would never happen!"

"It does not matter, Taran. Open your mind for a moment-the things I have told you before this are of no consequence. So let us imagine that both your fleet and theirs ultimately wash up upon the opposite sides of an unknown island far out in the sea-an isle, perhaps, named Azuremyst. Weary and worn, both pandaren and mogu seek shelter upon this island, and are met by its inhabitants-inhabitants called draenei, who know nothing of either pandaren or mogu. Seeing this, both seek their aid-and perhaps seek allies in them."

"...the mogu, seek aid? Your story is utterly beyond reason, Ilcya-the mogu would enslave your people and-"

"Are you really so arrogant as that, Taran?" the death knight cut in, venom overtaking her voice, "I know well what the mogu have done to your people, but do not imagine that they are a race of fools. The youngest of our elders were ancient when even the mantid were young, and we are but a step from the Eredar-from the very lords of the Burning Legion! We are not so weak as that; yes, the mogu would seek our aid."

Here, her fury and venom abated for a moment, both satisfied with the way that the pandaren had recoiled from it and displeased with herself for having given in to it. The draenei drew a deep breath, and shook her head. "...I am sorry-that was more than was called for. Still, though, even... entirely beyond that, do you truly imagine that every mogu is as those you have fought are? That there is no mogu whose heart is noble, and whose only crime is having been born of a foul race? Or that there are those even amongst those who do evil who only do so because it is all that they know? Because they have looked down upon you and the other races of Pandaria since time immemorial?"

Taran Zhu drew a deep breath, inwardly berating himself for the fact that he was still... shaken from those first words. "...does it matter if that is the truth? Perhaps I have considered that, and yet it does not make their deeds less evil! That they might only torture and enslave my people because they have been taught that it is right does not undo those crimes at all!"

"No, it does not," she agreed, without any hesitation. "That is my point, Taran."

"What do you mean?" His wariness had returned, replacing the anger that could not kindle when he was still ill-at-ease.

"To the draenei, who are a foolish and naively peaceful people for all that they have suffered, you might seem only as though you had brought war with you to their lands. They would not know all that you have suffered, and all the crimes of the mogu-no, to them you might seem only two equally obstinate enemies, entirely unwilling to give up."

"You know that it is not the same thing!" Despite its absence a moment before, his anger could not but return at this, outraged at the comparison that had become all too clear.

"Is it not? The mogu have enslaved your people in the past, but how petty a crime that seems compared to what the orcs have done to mine. You were made slaves, but allowed to live if you did not rebel. We were robbed of all that was our own, raped, and slaughtered for the mere crime of sharing a world with them! They would've driven us to extinction if they had been able! And the Forsaken would do the same to the humans, had they the power, for as little a reason-the very humans they themselves were in life!"

She paused, drawing in a breath, but continued before the pandaren could find the words to answer her. "No one can say your hatred of the mogu is unjust, Taran-no one, and least of all me. But you have even less right to pretend that our war against the Horde is unjust when you refuse to even understand it! Yes, there is hatred in it, but if anyone knows that hatred can be justified, then it should be you!"

She stood, having said this, and shook her head, as she took up Shinka. The axe seemed to pulse with darkness in response to its mistress's fury, as she looked down at the other. "...I tell you this because I consider you a friend-a kindred spirit. Were you less than that, I would have little care for how wrong your belief was. Make of that what you will."

"As for myself... I, too, have preparations to make, for I share in your hatred of the mogu. It is because of that more than any of Lady Proudmoore's promises that I will be amongst the first to raise my blade against Lei Shen when the dawn comes," she finished, turning away after having met the other's eyes. "As I said, I understand the need for your words before-and, until the Thunder King is dead, I remain among the number of the Shado-Pan. But when his power is gone..."

She sighed, almost wistfully. "When he is dead, I have an oath that I mean to keep. An oath that I shall never rest so long as even a single orc remains upon the face of Azeroth."

The pandaren looked at her for a long, long moment, and then shook his head. "...truly, that is a dark path. What lies at its end, death knight? When there are no more orcs and your hands are drenched with blood?"

"Then..." she answered, with a hint of that same dark, bitterly ironic glee as before, "Then, I believe there will be one final monster for me to slay." Her hollow, bitter, echoing laughter was entirely unnerving... And then, she was gone as suddenly as she had come, leaving Taran Zhu with his thoughts.


End file.
